A stick wrapped with steel in some places was hidden deep in the basement of the building. A guardsman brought it out, letting Halimah inspect the device. She gleefully smiled as she caressed the device in various areas. Mehmed was curious but did not interrupt her session with the device.

Halimah suddenly stopped and glared at the tugged Muhdati. “Firearms. A foreign design that does not seem local. Continue the search; there must be ammunition for this firearm!” She ordered, whipping the guards into a frenzy.

“The only legal means is through the local Merchant Union. Everyone who owns these is put on a registry, and your name wasn’t on it. Mr Dar, this is a capital offence.” She calmly elaborated and placed a finger against her throat.

“…” Muhdati stood there and stayed silent.

“This is enough to have you imprisoned. Send him away.” Halimah waved her hand at the guard accosting Muhdati and sent him away from the building. By now, a crowd had gathered outside the building, wondering what had happened. Muhdati could only watch with shame as he was hauled away with guards ordering the public to make way for them.

“What is that?” Mehmed opened his mouth, seemingly the only idiot in the room.

The girl sighed and closed her eyes while scrunching her eyebrows, but Halimah changed her expression to an understanding one. “I supposed your family would have little need for them. Think of them as self-propelled bows that fire arrows that can penetrate heavy armour.” Halimah explained as she observed the various trinkets that the guards brought over.

“Sounds like a mighty weapon, but what’re the drawbacks?” Mehmed queried as he joined the girl in observing the various foreign goods in the merchant’s possession.

“Firstly, it’s expensive. Secondly, the weapon is ineffective, especially for people like us who rely on light cavalry and infantry and fight similar foes. There are many drawbacks, but you may find some books on the subject matter when you’re a frequent visitor to the local library.” Some fear trickled down Mehmed’s spine as he wondered who had sent her such information.

Halimah clicked her tongue as she observed all sorts of illegal foreign goods that should not be in a simple grain trader’s hands. “Something’s up, no doubt.” She remarked as she grinned.

“Nonetheless, you have done the Duchy a great favour, even if the information may be wrong. I can arrange some things for your education. I’ll see you on another day. One of my men will send the date and time to your coachman.” Halimah escorted Mehmed out of the building and bid him goodbye, leaving him by his lonesome. The boy scampered off to Khaled’s public library, seeking to learn more about firearms.

“Tarik!” Salih rushed over to find his brother at the training field. He was riding laps with his warhorse. Tarik stopped his steed right by his brother and dismounted the horse.

“What seems to be the problem, brother?” Tarik wiped some sweat off his brows as he looked at the rare urgent gaze Salih sent him.

“Halimah! That bi – cough!” Salih cut his words short as some guardsmen passed by. Tarik snorted at his brother. Narrowing his eyes in annoyance, he continued,” Our sister led a search on some merchant and found some extremely illegal stuff in his possession!”

Tarik stomped his feet and huffed in a fury, “If our sister is willing to do something so publicly, doesn’t this mean she’s finally coming out of the shadows?”

Salih grinned, “Naturally. Maybe we can finally purge some men from our ranks. I know some of them have been spreading what I have been up to her. But…” The boy kept silent, unsure of how to continue.

“I don’t know if I can purge my men. They have been loyal and performed their duties well, even if they are sister’s underlings.” Tarik spoke instead of Salih, but the boy did not react to his comments.

“Let’s work together and take her down, Tarik. Don’t you think it’s unfair how she doesn’t fight face to face, always using schemes!” Salih proposed to his older brother, putting on an admirable expression.

“Once we take her out, then what? You’ll be coming after me?” Tarik took a step towards Salih, forcing him back by another step.

“We can work together in managing the Duchy! We don’t need to destroy each other!” Salih stomped his feet in irritation. Oh why, oh why did he step back and let himself be intimidated?

“You criticize sister for her vile schemes, but it’s not like you’re one yourself. Hmmph, begone from my sight.” Tarik growled, and Salih could run with his tail between his legs.

“The most important thing when building a spy network is money.” Halimah sipped on her cup of coffee as Mehmed sheepishly sat across from her and listened to what she had to say. “You need money to recruit people and keep them loyal to you.”

“But I don’t have much money….” Mehmed rolled his eyes and mumbled.

Sending a strict gaze toward the boy, Halimah elaborated, “Let this big sister tell you one of my techniques to amass wealth.”

“I rather not have you as a big sister….” Mehmed grumbled.

Frowning, the undeterred girl continued, “The guards in your territory confiscate numerous items from criminals. You can gather them, sell them on the open market, and pocket the profit without expenses. Just talk to your territory’s Marshal, who is in charge of such affairs.” Mehmed nodded, and Halimah cheekily grinned.

“This is pretty ingenious.” The boy remarked.

“Now, here’s the important part. With the minuscule money you’ve earned, go to your local prison and hire some individuals with skills like lockpicking or grunts to get some eyes around town.” Halimah continued.

“But won’t the peasants be angry seeing criminals walking around in broad daylight? Plus, I feel uncomfortable working with criminals.” Mehmed interjected.

“You’re a noble; you can get away with it. The truth is that most criminals don’t want to be criminals. If they can achieve their end goals legally, they will do so. And if you’re scared of them backstabbing you, threaten to execute them. And if they try to run off, they probably can’t because you confiscated all their belongings in the first place!” Halimah chuckled in an ambivalent tone, sending shivers down Mehmed’s back.

“The problem is, you will need to source a long-term and sustainable income. So I suggest starting a business. Since you can’t buy over a business, this is the best substitute.” Mehmed got out a piece of parchment and a reed pen. Halimah then went to fetch a bottle of ink for her guest. The young master started noting down all of her words. The Alwaleed heiress could only smirk, seeing how her student treated her words like gospel.

“The merchants control the market. How am I supposed to start a business with little capital?” Mehmed queried as he wrote a couple of question marks on the parchment.

“Ask people what they want or need. The merchants won’t be able to fulfil everything. Some areas of the market are unfulfilled due to the low profits, but beggars can’t be choosers. And I think that’s the gist of how I started my spy network in the Duchy.” Halimah tapped against her chin and pondered whether she had missed anything important.

“You make it sound so easy. Too easy.” Mehmed complained.

“That’s because this big sister simplified it so that someone of your intellect could comprehend it.”

“Marshal Hassen! I have something I want to say!” Mehmed burst into the Marshal’s office. The Marshal raised his head and gestured towards the boy to speak up.

“I would like to take the items confiscated by the criminals.” The boy requested, causing Hassen to baulk at the sudden request.

“Did your parents give permission?” Hassen left his pen in the ink bottle and straightened his posture.

“Father made me the temporary Lord! So, it should be fine.” The young master reassured Hassen.

“Well then, go ahead. You can take them all if you want; there’s nothing too valuable.” Hassen remarked, thinking that Mehmed would take a couple of items.

“Mehmed! Coachman Adnan said you wanted to see me….” Steward Waifi’s words were cut short as he gazed at the large array of items in the cart. “Where did you get all of them from?” The Steward wondered if he had to clean up the young master’s mess.

“Just stuff confiscated from criminals. Hassen said I could have them all. The cart was also part of them.” Mehmed beamed as Wasifi felt an oncoming migraine. “Wasifi, help me liquidate these goods.”

The hood lowered as Wasifi looked towards the sandy ground. He then pinched himself. Taking a deep breath, he reluctantly uttered, “Yes… young master…”. Wasifi imagined the break granted by the absence of the Lord and Lady evaporating at this moment. He thought about who he could conveniently assign the task to when Mehmed passed something into his hands.

“By the way, here’s the book I borrowed. It was an interesting read.” Wasifi looked down and paled at the book’s title.

“Mehmed… where did you get this book?” Mehmed choked out some words as he imagined the Sword of Damocles hanging over his neck.

“I had to look even deeper into your personal library. I removed the books until I reached the very end of the shelves, and I found this book. What’s wrong? Are you sick?” The boy asked, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Wasifi weakly shook his head as Mehmed took his leave. The first order of action, find a new place to hide his banned books! Then find some poor schmuck to dump the goods onto.

Footsteps echoed in the dark corridors as Mehmed walked down the stairs. The prison was primarily silent, except for a few that seemed to have gone insane. The poor boy could not only pretend that the noise pollution did not exist as the warden escorted the boy to a cell.

An individual sat in a dark corner, resting on the ground. He looked towards the newcomers with a despairing gaze. “Taslim Aman, arrested for breaking into a house. He was sentenced to having his hands cut off. The procedure will take place in a few days. I shall leave you with the privacy you desire.” The warden stomped off.

“Are you the angel sent by God? I prayed and prayed, and it seems that salvation has come!” Taslim got on his knees and pathetically crawled over bars adorning his cell door. Mehmed scrunched up his eyebrows in disgust as he took a couple of steps back.

“… I’ve read your report. You were caught trying to break into a merchant’s house. Why?” Mehmed demanded.

“I’m so sorry. Please let me keep my hands! I admired Maher’s blade and wanted one like it. But I will never be able to afford it if I worked for the rest of my life. I got greedy and broke into….” Taslim began breaking down in tears, making Mehmed even more uncomfortable in this uncomfortable location.

“Taslim, what if I give you a chance to redeem yourself.” Mehmed squatted and faced Taslim.

“God! God has answered my prayers!” The man wailed as he uttered prayer after prayer.

“I’m no god.” Mehmed scoffed before continuing,” My name is Mehmed Alkhadra, the heir to the county you stand in. If you don’t want to lose your hands, you will be under my employment from today onward. Now, swear an oath to the very God you seek.” The boy coldly demanded in front of the pitiful mess of a man. Mehmed felt no pity for a thief who only stole because of his greed, unlike the sob stories he heard from others in prison.

“I… swear to God! Before God, I solemnly swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Mehmed Alkhadra. If at any point I dishonour Mehmed Alkhadra, may my hands be cut off!” The man raised his upper body and kept his hand against his heart before collapsing. Mehmed spun a key in his hand and unlocked the cell door.

“Get yourself cleaned up, Taslim; we have some business to discuss.” Mehmed left the man to his own devices. Taslim could only wail and thank the heavens that he was able to keep his hands.

Mehmed slid a piece of paper across the table. House breaker Taslim picked it up and looked at the list of names. “My apologies, I am unable to read.” Taslim apologized before handing the parchment to the rest of the grunts, checking if any could decipher the strange text in their hands. The men were all cleaned up and looked presentable compared to their shabby prison selves. They looked like they would require some much-needed nutrition before returning to their prime, but it was a good start. Mehmed sighed and placed a map of the town on the table. It was circled with the various houses that the boy wanted his spy network to work on.

“Aren’t all these the houses of merchants in the Alkhadra?” The man queried as he observed the houses all clustered around one another.

Mehmed nodded. “Instead of stealing, I want you to investigate if they commit any crimes. Check for any strange exotic items and their accounts for tax evasion. Let me warn you first. If there are any incidents of theft from these merchants, you will also face the punishments you were supposed to deserve in prison.” The room fell silent as Mehmed gave them some time for the words to sink in.

“What are accounts, and what is tax evasion?” A grunt asked.

Mehmed snapped his fingers, and a couple of soldiers working for his family entered the room. “Young master, what is the meaning of this? Why are we colluding with criminals?” The leader of the soldiers demanded as he remembered some of the faces in the room. The soldiers grew rowdy as they hurled accusations after accusation after Mehmed’s newly recruited men.

“Silence!” Mehmed demanded, ceasing all commotion in the room. “From now on, I would like you to teach these men how to read and write.” The boy elaborated the phrase “read and write” succinctly. The room became rowdy among the soldiers as they protested his decision, but the captain silenced them with his speech.

“Young master, I do not understand what you are trying to achieve with these criminals. But, We will set out to accomplish the task that you have given us.” The captain subordinated himself to Mehmed, causing the rest of the soldiers to hang their mouths agape. Any further protests would be disrespectful to the captain.

“Very well. You can begin teaching them how to read and write starting from today. We can even begin now. Go and get along with one another.” Mehmed took his leave, leaving both groups awkwardly staring at one another.